


Well, he had to find out sometime

by avocad0kisses



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College AU, Coming Out, Cute, Drinking Games, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Out of Character, Pet Names, Peter being sweet, Peter calls Stiles Firecracker, Prompt Fill, Romance, Sheriff finds out, Steter - Freeform, Stiles Stilinski & Peter Hale feels, Stiles calls Peter Baby, background Tara Graeme/Sheriff Stilinski, celebration, established!steter, kisses on the nose, out to dinner, steter anniversary, steter prompt fill, tense moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:45:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3872545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avocad0kisses/pseuds/avocad0kisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wasn't the easiest son to keep track of.  Running off on school nights, ending up in Mexico, finding supernatural creatures as friends.  If only the Sheriff could have predicted that the next turn in his son's life would include one Peter Hale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well, he had to find out sometime

**Author's Note:**

> Based of a prompt I saw on tumblr: Steter, the sheriff finds out 
> 
> This is my first fic on this site and my first Steter fic :)

Stiles was pulled out of his Peter induced haze by the too familiar, throaty laugh of someone who sounded an awful lot like Officer McGaggle of the Beacon Hills Police Department.  The police department that was located about an hour east of the restaurant he and Peter were eating at. The police department that Stiles’ father ran as the sheriff.  Stiles’ father who didn’t know about his relationship with the once deceased Peter Hale.    

“Whaa…” Stiles watched with mouth hanging open as officers of all different ranks happily walked by toward one of the private rooms in the back of the restaurant.  Somewhere in the parade of nicely dressed, smiling persons was the sheriff himself, Stiles was sure of it. 

“I would ask what has stolen your attention, but now I see,” Peter spoke up, argyle covered ankle warm against Stiles’ own under the table. “Hmm.”

“Fuck, Peter, shit,” Stiles grumbled worriedly.  He was being reminded, on their anniversary no less, that there were people close to him who wouldn’t be too happy to find out about his boyfriend.  Stiles huffed out a frustrated sigh, wondering if they should leave before even getting to experience the highly praised entrees at Marigold Ladies.

“Stiles,” Peter began, “please don’t start thinking too much.  Look around.  The lighting is so low it’s hard to distinguish the faces of the people next to us. Our table is higher off the ground and in back corner -- we are out of anyone’s line of sight.  Unless your father goes to the bathroom while walking on his toes and staring in dark corners I don’t see why we should be worried.”

Stiles fiddled with the knot of his tie, wanting to take comfort in Peter's words.  His boyfriend was putting in the effort to refocus the evening on the two of them; a big change from the person he first thought Peter to be.  Stiles smiled up at the man he had fallen so hard for, reaching across the table to link their fingers together.  Thoughts of his father and the other officers soon began to fall to the wayside. 

“I know!” Stiles exclaimed excitedly into the previously calm air between the two of them.  “We should play a drinking game!”

“Really, Stiles?” Peter drawled, his voice coated in amused discouragement.  He lifted Stiles’ hand toward his face, placing a chaste kiss one of the knuckles, “Are we celebrating four months, or your fourth birthday?”

“Hardy har har,” Stiles replied with a raised eyebrow, “No, believe me, this will be great – until our food arrives, each time we want to take a sip of wine we have to name one moment that helped us get this far,” at Peter’s skeptical look Stiles slapped the other man’s arm declaring, with only a slight pout, “This will be fun! And romantic, Creeperwolf.” Peter still didn’t look convinced so Stiles untangled their fingers and held up his glass as a demonstration. 

“So, uh,” Stiles felt his cheeks warm under Peter’s gaze.  He cleared his throat, beginning to speak again.  “This is to us.  Well, us and our memories together,” Stiles looked down and let out a quiet laugh.  He was so happy for this man, so lucky to have found Peter amongst all the shit that's happened in the past few years.  The younger man laughed again and raised his glass higher looking into his boyfriend’s eyes.  “Specifically, I am thankful for the leprechauns and their liquid gold that for some reason is werewolf catnip.  You covered in gold, sucking on your fingers like you were and moaning…well, that jumpstarted my libido in ways I tried not to think about. For months.”

Peter hummed, eyelids lowering as his eyes roamed over the face of his beau.  To his merit, Peter didn’t make a joke about Stiles dysfunctional sexual kinks, even though consuming the gold nearly killed him.  He just added covering himself in edible liquids to a rapidly shortening list of things they should try when they were behind closed doors. 

“I suppose it’s my turn then,” Stiles nodded the affirmative taking a small sip from his glass.  “Mmm…well I guess I’d have to say the day you killed me.” Peter paused for a second giving Stiles way too much time to think about the implications of that statement.

“Whoa, I didn’t expect to get guilt tripped tonight. Waiter, waiter – more alcohol please,” Stiles joked dejectedly, unable to hide his hurt in his voice.  “Bringing up our fucked up history, happy anniversary to us both. Cheers,” he spoke into his wine glass, proceeding to swallow down a mouthful. 

“Stiles, Firecracker, look at me.  I think you should know by now that I ‘forgave’ you for that a long time ago.  Actually, there was no need for forgiveness, you did nothing wrong.  You were protecting your town, the people you love.  I also know you were protecting yourself.” Peter rubbed his thumb across Stiles’ jawline reverently, continuing to speak softly: “What I really meant is that I’m happy I got to see you like that.  My eyes opened a little wider, I didn’t know until then but I wanted to be someone you would fight for, too.”  Stiles found himself moving closer, drawn in by the raw honesty in Peter’s eyes, the depth of what they had just shared with each other.  Peter cradled Stiles’ jaw firmly guiding him closer while he moved in himself, eyes closing somewhere along the way.  Stiles sighed into the kiss, their lips moved against one another’s gently, enjoying the touch of each other.  After several long moments they parted sharing a smile that seemed to stretch into the air between them.

Stiles looked away, laughing softly and staring, unseeingly, at his lap. Returning his gaze to Peter's own, his throat caught with emotion too thick to speak out loud.

"Peter, I love you. God, I love you so much," he laughed thickly, swallowing before continuing, "I'm so lucky I have you, Baby, I'm so happy with you." Peter watched Stiles speak, eyes glistening. Stiles leaned over to peck the tip of his nose, quick. The younger man leaned back, chuckling, as Peter scowled and wiped his nose.

"You know I wouldn't be tempted to do things like that if you weren't so darn pre--"

"Stiles?" a voice called out cautiously, "Stiles, is that you?"

The celebrating couple froze stiffly turning to look each other in the eyes, while under his breath Stiles recited a well-known chant comprised solely of the word "fuck." Peter coughed weakly, nudging Stiles’ foot under the table.

"Uh, hi Dad!" Stiles chirped hoarsely, having yet to turn towards his father, "Fancy meeting you here, huh?" Stiles yelped as Peter pinched his thigh under the table, innocently taking a drink of his water. When Peter caught Stiles' eye he jerked his head towards the too quiet person who was surely still standing in front of their table.  Stiles took a deep breath and turned his body fully towards the man who didn’t even know he was back for the Memorial Day weekend. Fuck.

"Hey, Dad." The Sheriff had looked better, is Stiles' opinion. Well he certainly looked nice enough for the occasion – pants pleated neatly, deep green shirt complimented with a white and gray striped tie.  His face though – Stiles hoped fruitlessly that his shocked and disturbed expression wasn’t because of him.  The college student noted distractedly that his father must have removed his jacket at some point.

"Stiles, I...I didn't know you were in town. What -- what's going on?"

"Oh um," he fidgeted nervously, trying not to glance at Peter who he could sense was much too relaxed about this, probably even amused, the fucker.  Instead staring at the complex knot of his father's tie wondering if Officer Graeme helped him with that.  Was she his father’s date for the evening? He was jolted back into the moment by Peter poorly disguising his name beneath a cough.  "Right! Dad, I came back. For the weekend? Yeah, to, um, see Peter? Yeah, see the funny thing is that, um," he knew it was a mistake, he knew he shouldn’t do it and he still looked into his father's eyes. He felt jittery, reaching back belatedly for Peter's hand. Grasping the other man's hand in his own he held their linked hands above the table shaking them with a jolt.

"We're dating!" he said with more apprehension than enthusiasm. His father seemed stunned, looking between the older male and his only son. In Stiles’ defense he was planning to tell his father.  He just...wasn't ready.  Whenever he would start to feel guilty about it he would remind himself that he was a twenty-one year old man and perfectly able to have his own relationship without his father needing to know.  Of course, that kind of logic never really did seem to work in his favor.

"Stiles," his father said, some odd mix of a command and a plea coating his words, "I didn't even know you were, uh, that you dated? Men?" His voice raised in pitch at the last word making Stiles wince.  The Sheriff cleared his throat, walking forward a few steps until he was right beside the table.

"I mean, Christ, Stiles! How – how long has this – ?" The Sheriff gestured between the two of them, eyes darting back and forth, searching Peter’s relaxed face disbelievingly.

"Oh, um," the Sheriff's eyes jumped over to Stiles.  "Just a little while?" Peter coughed, prompting Stiles to correct himself. "I mean, a few months?” Peter squeezed his hands a little too hard to be loving. “Like four? Actually yeah, four months this past Thursday. Happy Anniversary?"

"Four –" the Sheriff stopped to lower his voice, nearly hissing into the tense air, "This has been going on for four months? Were you ever going to tell me you have a _much older_ _boy_ friend who just happens to be Peter Hale?!"

"Yes! Yes, Dad, of course I was going to tell you," Stiles reached out with both hands covering his father's where they had been clinging onto the side of the table, his body raising out of his chair to keep up with his movements, "I just wasn't ready yet. Peter wanted to, he said it was a good idea I just...I wasn't ready." The Sheriff let out a breath, slipping his hands out from underneath his son’s. He took an unsteady a half step back, staring blankly at the ice bucket and red wine that without a doubt was priced higher than what he spent last time he filled up the tank in his son’s jeep. Stiles sat back in his seat, mouth frowning lightly.  Peter reached out to still his fingers tapping on the table, raising an eyebrow at his anxious boyfriend.  Stiles let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.   

"Christ, Stiles, you're -- you're on a date at _Marigold Ladies,_ I -- I"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Dad, I really am," he pleaded earnestly, "I’m – I love Peter.  I'm really happy with him, Dad. He loves me and we're happy – can we, can we talk about this later? I promise we will, just not here. Please, Dad. I'm in town until Monday afternoon.  Let’s not talk right now."

"Alright, fine. But don't think this conversation is over with, we've got a lot of things to set straight. And if you let me know sooner I could've had your room ready, but that's yours to deal with now."

"Oh!" Stiles' face heated rapidly, and he cleared his throat before looking at his father with resolve, "I'm staying with Peter for the weekend," he continued to speak over the beginnings of his father's protesting, "but we can come over for dinner tomorrow? We'll cook?"

"Well. Fine,” the Sheriff grumbled out, “but don't go thinking I'm paying for anyone's grocery bill –"

"I've got it, I promise! Okay, thank you dad," Stiles jumped up, stumbling a bit over his feet in his haste to give his dad a quick but grateful hug.  Pulling away from his father, Stiles turned to drag Peter off toward the bathroom with him, waving goodbye to his father with his free hand.  Peter raised his half full wine class toward the Sheriff, turning smoothly to continue following his boyfriend.  The Sheriff gave a short wave, hearing Stiles' chastisements of _‘Well you weren't any help were you? I swear Peter, if tonight wasn't our anniversary I would put you on the couch tonight!’_  At the sound of Peter's low laughter the Sheriff spun around to return the rest of his dinner party shaking off the vestiges of the conversation. He’d have to remember to invite Tara to that home cooked meal on Sunday.  At least then he’d have someone to help him through another turn in his son’s life. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you know who wrote that prompt! I just saw it one day and started writing but couldn't find the prompt again for the life of me >.


End file.
